Yes that’s me, in shades and a distressingly unflattering hat (not mine), in a boat (not the leaky one I still have to tell you about) on Lake Chacahua in Mexico.
But the pic of the hotel we stayed at on the shore is accurate and worth your attention. It’s called La Almendra — you can see our window, with the white curtain gathered into a triangle and looking right out on the lagoon. But what I don’t know if you can see is that the walls are made from dried palm fronds. So the stars come through at night — and so do the twinkling Christmas lights on the neighboring roof (they’re looped around trees — very sweet — and helpful for night bathroom trips downstairs and across the courtyard — we didn’t mind this, but you should know that we’re aging hippies who are willing to rough it).
Still, by our standards our room was wonderful. And I’m happy to say that we didn’t mave to use the sultry picturesque mosquito nets hanging over the bed, though perhaps one would during the hot, muggy rainy season.
I’m not much of a travel writer and didn’t record nearly enough details, but I will tell you that our spacious, airy room (called nido de amor or something like that — love nest) was way reasonably priced and that I loved sitting at the table and looking out at boats and birds while I read Reborn, the first volume of Susan Sontag’s diaries, and for me as fascinating as a novel, a first-hand look at the earliest shapings of a massive intellect and larger-than-life sensibility (and a gorgeous woman! — who was always deeply involved in the erotics of art — which is part of why I’ve been reading her since her 1966 essay on “The Pornographic Imagination”).
And which, more generally, might give you a clue as to the kind of travel writer, and traveler, I am — I can always remember what I was reading even when I was thrilled to be away from home seeing new and different things. Perhaps it’s the freedom from routine and familiarity that makes the reading experience more intense.
Further apologies, meanwhile for the infrequency of blog posts lately. Partly it’s because we’re still putting our house together after the paint job and renovations, and partly because I’m training to work at Weight Watchers (more about that in another post). But mainly because I’m seriously beginning a new book, which I will only tell you is a Jane Austen reworking…
…Though not like the forthcoming “Pride and Predator,” about which Variety tells us (via an email from a friend — thanks, Ron) that an alien crash lands and begins to butcher the mannered protags, who suddenly have more than marriage and inheritance to worry about.
But what I’d like to be worrying about, or at least figuring out, is how to strike a good balance between book-writing and blogging. Oh, and living… and traveling… Not to speak of reading…
All advice gratefully accepted.